Northern Lights Trilogy

by Lisa Tawn Bergren

  “We won’t be droopy-doos!” Kristian promised, racing to his grandmother and almost knocking her back to the sofa.

  Elsa picked up Eve and looked over her shoulder at Gratia. “I need to spend a bit more time with the Ramstads before I turn in. You’ll put the little ones to bed for me?”

  “Of course.”

  “I want to go to Farmor Ramstad’s!” Kristian shouted.

  “No, no. It’s late. A bit of chocolate and to bed with you.” She handed Eve to her mother. “You’ll say good-bye to your grandparents and cousins tomorrow at the docks. Good night, dear ones,” she said, ignoring Kristian’s petulant looks and kissing them each on the forehead. “See you in the morn.”

  “Bright and early!” Gratia added, herding them toward the kitchen. “Oh, it will be a sad day for me to say farewell to you Americans.”

  Elsa watched as they disappeared into the kitchen, Kristian happily chattering about America and Alaska. In many ways, it would be good to go home. But would she feel a true sense of home anywhere? She had houses in Camden, Maine, and Seattle. But would anywhere ever really feel like home? Her home was on the sea, just as much as in the homes she had occupied with Peder. It was at sea that she felt at peace.

  She walked out into the brisk spring evening and glanced up at the stars that filled the sky above the fjord. How much life had changed in the eight years she’d been away. How much she herself had changed. Suddenly she felt older than her twenty-eight years. What would fill the next twenty-eight?

  As she walked toward the barn, she remembered her wedding day to Peder. She remembered Karl, standing at Peder’s side, and wondered at herself that she had been so naive to have mistaken his intense gaze as mere friendship. Now the two were friends again. But that friendship had been torn apart when Karl had kissed her and declared his true feelings. It had driven a wedge between Peder and Karl—friends that were more like brothers. After Peder’s death, Karl came to her, begged her forgiveness. And she had given it willingly. But still he seemed distraught that he hadn’t done the same with Peder before his death.

  She looked out at Hardanger Fjord and wondered where Karl Martensen was. Memories of him now brought only warm feelings. He was as dear to her as he once was to Peder, and she missed him. Elsa made a mental note to look in on his family on the way to the docks in the morning. Knowing Karl, he’d want as much news of them as he could get. Last she’d heard he had planned to take a voyage around the Horn, taking raw materials east with him and new steamship materials back to Alaska. With any luck, they would meet again in Alaska come autumn. How grand it would be to see him! To talk and laugh and embrace—

  Elsa stopped short, watching her breath fog into small clouds in front of her face. Embrace? She cast the idea of it away, immediately guilty at the thought. Since when did she dream about holding her friend? It was being home, she decided. Missing Peder and what they had had together made her lonely. Even to the point of romanticizing about a friend! She laughed aloud, disgusted with her wayward imagination, and turned her thoughts back to her in-laws.

  She saddled a horse and made it to the Ramstads’ home in ten minutes. After knocking, she waited and wondered about the girl who once expected Peder to answer it—the girl she had once been. Her thoughts went back to the last time she had come to this house, at twelve years of age, still able to knock on a boy’s door without suspicion that she was anything other than the playmate down the road. At thirteen, she had been required to wait on the young men to call on her. But that year, she was young and free. She remembered Karl and Peder wrestling as they answered the door, both eager to see her, both shoving each other’s face and arms away from the doorjamb. She had laughed then, and she giggled again at the memory as Helga Ramstad opened the door.

  Karl had been as eager to greet her as Peder had been. But since their kiss, Karl had withdrawn from her, even more so since Peder’s death. Would he ever look at her with such eagerness again? She realized she wanted it now. After all these years. She wanted a man, a man like Karl, to open a door and see her and a smile to light up his face with joy.

  “Elsa?” Helga said, and, by her expression, not for the first time.

  “Oh! Forgive me!” Elsa said, embracing her mother-in-law. She wondered, as Helga led her to the formal parlor, if she needed to ask forgiveness for thinking of another man, a man who wasn’t her husband. But strangely, she felt no need.

  San Francisco

  “Oh, Captain Martensen!” Mrs. Kenney called, turning from her group of fellow socialites. They were at the Society of Friends of the Less Fortunate Ball, a dance designed to bring in enough money to build a new house for the homeless and out-of-luck.

  “Mother wants to introduce you to her new friends,” Mara Kenney said, ducking her head toward him. His date for the evening was a beauty, and Karl was the envy of the dance. Why could he not feel more…pleased?

  “Let us go and meet them then,” he sighed, hating the displeasure in his voice. The Kenney family had treated him like a second son, and the senior Kenneys had welcomed his offer to escort Mara to the ball. They had been clear in their intentions to secure an honorable man’s hand for their daughter. Somehow, Karl had always thought of himself as an older brother to their girls, not a potential suitor. Now in foolishly offering himself as an escort to the Kenneys’ daughter—who had bemoaned that she would once again come in on the arm of her father instead of a beau—he had unwittingly opened them all up for pain. So what right did he have to feel used? It was his own fault for getting them all into this predicament. The longer he knew Mara, the more he hoped that stirrings of love for her would grow in his heart. Perhaps it was a fanciful young man’s dream—to be in love with your intended.

  Mara smiled at him, delight shining in her eyes. How could he squelch the young girl’s pleasure? She was stunning; her dark hair was wound into a dramatic knot and pinned with a fanciful silk flower arrangement that matched another on the shoulder of her dress and still another where the bodice met her tiny waistline. And truth be told, it was gratifying for a man to be admired so.

  Mara chatted on about how much “the girls” had mooned over her Nile green China crepe dress, made in the latest style to reach San Francisco society. Her arms were bare, and the low, square neckline had twin gauze strips that formed the shoulders of the dress and ran across her breasts to meet at her waist.

  Karl’s gaze moved toward her small hands in long suede gloves, holding an elegant fan. He wanted to dismiss her as being too much like his former fiancée, Alicia Hall. But deep down, he knew Mara to be nothing like the conniving, superficial, heartless woman to whom he had once found himself engaged.

  “Captain Martensen,” Mrs. Kenney began, “I would like to introduce you to some of our newest friends from the Society. You have been away much too long.”

  “For some of us more than others,” winked a matron at Mara.

  Karl glanced down at Mara. She was blushing prettily, the picture of propriety. “Well yes, I was in Alaska, and then back East,” he said. “It is a pleasure to be here at last.” He did not wish to embarrass Mara in the least. The Kenneys were, after all, dear friends.

  Mrs. Kenney made the introductions, and Karl resisted the urge to shift uneasily.

  Gerald Kenney joined the group and slapped Karl on the back. “It’s good to have you home, son. It feels right, somehow, to have you here.”

  “Indeed,” Mrs. Kenney said, smiling at Karl and then the group. She was like a proud hen showing off her chicks.

  “Enough socializing with the women,” Gerald said, puffing out his chest. “Let us gentlemen retire to another room for a bit of politics and cigars.”

  “By all means, take both to another room,” Mrs. Kenney enjoined. She took Mara’s arm, and the girl glanced at Karl a bit mournfully. What have I done? he berated himself when he saw her look. He turned away with Gerald, breathing deeply for the first time all night. Away from Mara’s side, he at least would not dig his grave any
deeper than it already was.

  But his respite was brief.

  “I would be in hot water with Mrs. Kenney if I did not ask your intentions for my daughter,” Gerald said conspiratorially as they entered a huge parlor filled with the pungent aroma of cigar smoke and the lower, rumbling sounds of fervent male conversation.

  “I am relieved to speak of it with you, Gerald,” he said.

  His friend turned and grabbed two crystal glasses from a passing waiter. Then he turned back to Karl and leaned closer to hear him amidst the din of laughter and dialogue. “Oh?” His merry look said that he had completely misunderstood Karl.

  “Yes, I—”

  “Kenney! Martensen!” Hayden Stover, an old captain of Karl’s and colleague of Gerald’s, joined them. “I hear you’re just back from Alaska. Tell me, man, what is going on up there? I hear there’s word of a man running some sightseeing trips along the Inside Passage and doing quite well for himself. What say you? Should we all become tour guides?”

  Karl glanced at Gerald, but it was clear that his friend was as intrigued as Hayden Stover about the opportunities to their north and was no longer thinking about matrimonial prospects for his daughter. Perhaps it is for the best. Karl clearly needed time to think his way out of his predicament. He liked Mara but was in no way ready to declare his intentions to court her.

  “A man named Smith is indeed doing a smashing business along the Inside Passage. I have colleagues that are in the midst of building an inn in Ketchikan, specifically to cater to those passengers. Have you been to Ketchikan? The totem poles there are remarkable.”

  “I bet it’s Trent Storm who spotted a business opportunity like that so early in the game,” Hayden surmised.

  “Indeed, one and the same,” Karl affirmed.

  “Ha! I knew it. That man is always a mile ahead of anything I think of.”

  “Even so,” Karl said, cocking a brow, “you manage to do quite well for yourself.”

  “Indeed,” Gerald agreed. “Imagine how Storm is making out! I suppose you are investing in the inn.”

  “Sadly, no. Storm already allowed my friend Bradford Bresley as well as Kaatje Janssen to buy in. But I plan on giving Smith a run for his money. I’m picking up a new steamship in Panama next month that will top any other for luxury travel. It’ll sail between Seattle, Portland, and Juneau, stopping at Ketchikan every two weeks.”

  “Now that’s a dandy idea,” Gerald said with admiration. “Won’t Smith be steamed? Pardon the pun!” The men laughed along with him.

  “I am certain there are many other opportunities of the like,” Karl offered. “Along with the luxury steamer, I’m securing parts for several shallow draft steamers for the rivers. Alaska is untamed, remarkable territory, gentlemen, the best I’ve seen since coming to America. There are few riverboats, and more pioneers and miners by the day. Now is the time to act if you wish to capitalize on Alaska’s riches.”

  “You’re still in cahoots with Bresley?” Gerald asked.

  “Yes, Bradford and I are doing a fair amount of business. Trent Storm has invested in a portion of the steamers I’ll bring to Alaska via Panama.”

  “Humph,” Gerald snorted. “Storm again. How come you didn’t come to me, son, if you needed investors?”

  Karl smiled and ducked his head. “I would have, sir, had I needed investors. Storm and Bresley and I have been partners in the steamship business since our days in the Washington Territory. Bradford has leaned more toward mining interests; I still have two sailers; and Storm, of course, has his roadhouses. These days, we combine efforts only when it comes to steam.”

  “You heading north soon?” Hayden asked. “I’d like to get the lay of the land, figure how I might take part of what is certain to come.”

  “Are you sure?” Gerald asked, looking about at the growing number of men around them. “Why, isn’t that frozen monstrosity we purchased called ‘Seward’s Folly’? Some say that the man was a plumb fool for spending thousands of dollars on frozen tundra.”

  Karl watched the men react, amused at Gerald’s incredulity. “I’ve heard tell of the same,” he allowed. “But it’s my opinion that the men who called Seward a fool are the fools themselves. Alaska is rich. Gold mines abound, and I’d wager it’s only a matter of time until they have a rush that equals California’s heyday. And if it isn’t gold—there’s a company doing a thriving business in sealskins. There are whales and salmon and other fish in the sea that would keep a hundred canneries in business…and the Interior.” He paused and looked around him. “The Interior is so beautiful that it can bring a grown man to tears. Game abounds. Yes, it is harsh country, cold country, but I tell you, it’s the future for the thinking businessman.”

  “Count me in on your next venture, Karl,” Hayden said.

  “Aye, me, too!” called another. It seemed all the men in the parlor, perhaps fifty or more, were listening now.

  “And me!”

  “Whoa, whoa. Slow down there, boys!” Karl said with a smile. “There’s plenty for all of you, but I’m afraid you’ll have to drum up your own business. I do not wish to share any more of my pie. If you like, I can point you in the right direction.”

  “Call him on it!” shouted a man from the back.

  “Hear, hear!” called another, lifting a glass.

  Laughing, Karl was jostled and pushed toward a map of Alaska. And as he began pointing toward the Inside Passage, pausing at certain breathtaking spots, his heart yearned to return.

  Later that night Karl stepped out of the elegant George IV phaeton he had rented and reluctantly raised a hand to help Mara out. She rose from her seat in the carriage, and as she made her way down the two steps, she stumbled. Karl reached out to steady her, but she ended up in his arms. Helplessly, he looked toward the Kenneys’ front door, but Gerald was busily hustling his wife inside.

  He looked down at Mara, anxious to set her to rights and step away.

  But she was looking straight up at him. Earnest, clear eyes staring at him with an unspoken desire flickering in their depths. How long had it been since a woman had looked at him that way? His body longed to kiss the girl, to envelop her in his arms. But his mind, his heart, warned that it would be a deadly mistake. He did not love Mara Kenney. And he never would.

  Would he never love again?

  At last, Mara laughed softly and looked away. “I’m sorry, Mr. Martensen. I am dreadfully clumsy.”

  “Not at all, Miss Kenney.” He took her hand again and led her up the stone stairs to their front door, still open but unoccupied. “It was most likely my hand that left you unbalanced.”

  She paused before the doorway and turned to him, taking his other hand in hers. “Your touch, Mr. Martensen, I must confess, does leave me a bit…unbalanced.”

  Inwardly, he groaned. He had meant it to be a gallant statement, not a leading one. Once again, her chin tilted upward, her eyes pleading. She was lovely. Beautiful. And nothing like Alicia. Why could his heart not love her?

  Karl dropped her hands, wanting to spare her any embarrassment, and gestured toward the door. “I had better get you inside, Miss Kenney, before you catch a cold.”

  Reluctantly, she turned and walked inside, her demeanor shouting out her disappointment. Karl bit his lip and followed her.

  A month later, off the coast of Mexico, he still was berating himself for mishandling the incident. It was ten o’clock, the starboard watch was on, and Karl paced the decks, unable to sleep. There was a brisk wind, uncommon at night, probably because a storm was passing to the south of them. The cold gusts off the water felt right to Karl, as if they could slam some sense into him. He thought back to that night in San Francisco for the hundredth time. He had decided that he would have to address the issue with Mara in private. Surely, if he told her there was no love in his heart, it would end her fascination with him. What girl would want a loveless marriage?

  He had taken her for a stroll after supper. Looking over the San Francisco harbor, he ha
d turned to her and taken her hands.

  “Mara, I must speak with you about a delicate subject,” he began.

  “Yes, Karl. Please, go on.”

  “I’m afraid that all I feel for you is kinship,” he plunged in, not trusting himself to wait any longer. “While I admire you in every way, I do not have the feelings that I should have for a woman I intend to court.”

  Mara’s eyes filled with tears, but she did not look away. Instead, she raised a small hand and stroked his cheek. He cursed himself for the way she moved him physically. How he longed to duck his head and kiss her pretty mouth! But it wasn’t right, it wasn’t true.

  “Karl,” she said, “I am willing to wait for you. You are a fine man, and if, as you say, you admire everything about me, love can’t be far behind.”

  He took her hand from his face and moved farther away. “I am more than ten years your senior.”

  “That matters little. Father is twelve years senior to Mother.”

  “I am often at sea.”

  “I understand. I would be willing to wait each time you leave my side.” She drew closer to him and took his arm, leaning her cheek against his bicep. “Do not let this go yet, Karl. All I ask is for you to give it some time. I understand you have some doubts—I understand. Will you not even give me a chance?”

  He had turned to her, determined to say no, to get out while he still could. But one look at her luminous eyes, and he could not. Who could say? Perhaps she was right. Maybe God would grant a love for her, in time. Would it not be wonderful to be a part of the Kenney family?

  Karl groaned, remembering. He had failed once again, with people he truly cared about. As he had failed with his father. As he had failed with Elsa and Peder.

  He gritted his teeth and made his way to the bow of the ship and braced himself against the railing, riding the oncoming swells like a bucking horse. Each slam and dip of the ship a flogging. He deserved all the punishment the sea cared to give him.